


remember me

by sweetricebuns



Series: dinner stories [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Relationships, Family Reunions, Gen, Happy! But Sad, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, everyone is a little sad in this, like the adashi and kl in here are Super Minor, the adashi in here is like? post-kerb pre-relationship, yeah they need to sort it out. Eventually!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:02:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27013969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetricebuns/pseuds/sweetricebuns
Summary: Adam and Keith make plans to have dinner. It's a big thing for the both of them.
Relationships: Adam & Keith (Voltron), Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Keith & Shiro (Voltron)
Series: dinner stories [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1971532
Comments: 17
Kudos: 102





	remember me

**Author's Note:**

> for the keithtober 2020 prompt, "[Keith w/ Adam](https://twitter.com/fauxghosts/status/1303057448689758210)!"
> 
>  **EDIT** (10/15, 13:43): did not realize i tagged it as adam/keith instead of adam/shiro, and have since corrected it. i just want to be extremely clear that i will never put my support behind adam/keith, just as i will never support keith/shiro, or any shaladin ship for that matter
> 
> unedited  
> titled after "remember me" from the _coco_ soundtrack

“You’ve reached Wali.”

Keith exhales sharply. His stomach roils with nerves, and the smooth surface of the phone feels warm against his clammy palm. He’s severely underestimated how _not ready_ he is for this moment.

He knows he should speak, but what can he say? 

From across him, Lance whispers, “Dude, talk!” As if it’s _that_ easy. He’s making wide, frantic gestures with his arms, looking a little like a panicked squid, and Keith would laugh at him if he wasn’t on the phone with—

“Hello?”

His grip on the phone tightens. He’s probably only got seconds left if he doesn’t say anything soon. Taking a fortifying breath, he steels himself as he says into the receiver, “Adam?”

He expects an immediate response, a shout, something dramatic and movie-like, but it doesn’t come. Instead, he’s met with silence, staticky and oddly tense.

“Adam, are you there? It’s Keith.”

It feels like he’s fourteen again, small and insecure and unsure of anything. The silence stretches, and Keith is starting to think that maybe this was a horrible idea when Adam says, “Keith?” 

Keith clears his throat, running his sweaty hand over the back of his neck. “Yeah.”

A beat, then, “You mean the Keith who used to make paper airplanes out of the tests I had to grade?”

Keith blinks, caught off-guard. “What?” Memories of him doing that flash through his mind—of Shiro warning him not to do it, of himself doing it anyway, of Adam sighing but leaving him be. One night, long after Keith was supposed to have gone to sleep, he found Adam at the dining table, painstakingly unfolding the airplanes. When Keith woke up the next morning, he found them refolded. Every single one of them.

Keith laughs, hesitant and a little sad. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, the one and only.”

Adam hums. “The kid that would sneak into my office to steal the chocolate I kept in the drawers?”

At that, Keith splutters. “That wasn’t me and you know it!” It was Shiro who did the sneaking. Keith just reaped the rewards.

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“I’m saying you never had proof!”

Belatedly, he realizes how easy it was to slip back into conversations like this with Adam.

“Guess I didn’t,” comes Adam’s reply. He sounds amused. Then, a heavy pause. “The very Keith who disappeared on me without a word?”

Adam doesn’t sound upset when he says it—he sounds exactly like he has since they started the little game—but that doesn’t stop the air from rushing out of Keith, doesn’t stop him from feeling all the guilt come crashing down on him like a landslide. He stutters the beginnings of a sentence into the receiver, unsure of what to say but needing to say _something_ when Adam laughs, not unkindly.

“Don’t hurt yourself, Keith. Wait, let me—” Muffled rustling before Adam speaks again. “There. Sorry, just had to sit.”

“Oh. That’s a good idea,” Keith says. Maybe he should sit down, himself.

“You think so?” Adam replies.

Neither of them say anything for a moment. In his periphery, he sees Lance step out of the room. The door closes behind him with a quiet click.

“I’m sorry to call out of the blue,” Keith says.

“Oh, Keith,” Adam says. This time, he does sound upset, and it makes Keith want to dig himself a grave. “Don’t apologize for that.” He clears his throat, and when he next speaks, his voice comes out more stable. “How’d you even get this number?”

“Garrison records,” Keith replies. “Iverson told me where to find them since you, uh, weren’t in the employee database.”

“Just like that? Huh,” Adam says. “That was nice of him.”

Iverson hadn’t actually told him anything; he’d simply stumbled on a conversation he wasn’t supposed to hear. Shiro asked after Adam, once, just a week after they came back. That had shocked Keith. Up until that point, Shiro hadn’t really let himself even mention Adam’s name.

He stood outside Iverson’s office, out of sight as he listened.

“Where is he?”

To Iverson’s credit, he replied without a hitch. “Wali left.”

“Left,” repeated Shiro, sounding awfully blank.

“Yes.” The creak of a chair. “Left a few months after the students—your paladins—disappeared.”

Keith frowned, his hands clenched into fists. Still, he kept listening.

“Can I—”

“You don’t have the clearance for employee records.” Somehow, Iverson knew what Shiro was going to ask. “And, as a friend”—Keith scoffed—“I don’t know if he would have wanted me to tell you.”

Keith remembers the anger that had coursed through him then. Of course Adam would have. This was Shiro they were talking about. What the hell was Iverson on?

But Shiro had only nodded, turned, and returned to his own unit. The next time Keith saw him was the day after, and Shiro looked like he was trying so hard to be normal that Keith couldn’t find it in himself to burst Shiro’s bubble.

Later, it had only taken a favor from Pidge to get Adam’s information from the system.

Which brings him to now, on the phone, with Adam.

“Keith?”

Adam’s voice startles him out of his reverie.

“Right, uh, yeah.” He swipes his palm against the fabric of his pants. “It’s Iverson, so. I wouldn’t call him nice. But yeah.”

Adam laughs. “Point.” There’s more rustling over the phone, as if Adam is settling in even further. “Right, so. How’s your day been, then?”

 _How’s your day been_ , not _How are you_. Adam used to ask him that without fail everyday—Keith strongly suspected it was because Adam knew, somehow, that Keith was more honest when he was asked that way.

That it hasn’t changed makes something burn behind Keith’s eyes.

“It was alright,” Keith says. He’s telling the truth. “Really busy. They’ve got us running around to do things.”

“Right,” Adam replies. “I remember how much you hated ‘doing things.’”

Keith snorts. “You would know.”

“Glad to hear you haven’t changed,” says Adam, and Keith can practically see him shaking his head.

“They were serving pizza in the cafeteria today. I don’t know if you remember how bad the cafeteria food was.”

“Are you kidding? Of course I do. Why do you think I left?”

It’s a joke, Keith knows it is, but the reminder of Adam’s departure, of there being a reason behind it, of likely knowing what it was that made him leave—it’s a little much.

So he says, “I’m sorry.”

A beat, silent and weighty. “Sorry?”

“Yeah, for—” Keith swallows, running a hand through his hair. Agitation takes up space in each crevice of his body, growing and growing with every second. “For leaving. Disappearing. For not trying to tell you what was happening, it all just happened so fast, and, and, Shiro was there, I couldn’t really, they were, they were trying to take him back and I couldn’t let that, Adam, not after, after, you know, and—”

“Keith.”

“—Adam, you have to know I didn’t mean to, to worry you, you know that? I didn’t mean to just, I would have at least said _goodbye_ —”

“Keith, stop.”

Keith does.

“I need you to breathe for me, Keith.”

God, he can’t even apologize right. “Adam—”

“Breathe. Do you remember what I used to tell you? Five in, five out, Keith. Come on.”

He inhales shakily, counting to five, before exhaling for another five counts. Then, again.

“That’s it. You’re doing great, Keith.”

Keith keeps doing it until his heart stops racing, until his hands have stopped shaking and his body no longer feels like he’s going to explode.

Adam is quiet on the other end of the line, but he’s there.

“Thanks,” Keith says, quietly. His voice wavers, but only just a little bit.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” He sighs, a heavy, forlorn breath. “I never forgot, you know. Five in, five out. Kept me sane in space.”

And it did. When things became too much, when the weight on his shoulders felt a little too heavy, he would breathe—five in, five out, just like Adam taught him—and he would feel a little better.

Adam doesn’t respond. He doesn’t say anything for a long while.

“Adam?”

“Dammit, Keith,” Adam laughs out, and it sounds wet. Then, in a much steadier voice, “Why don’t you come over, Keith?”

“Come over?” Keith furrows his brows. “Where?”

“My place.” Adam sniffs, and there’s a rustle, like he’s wiping his hand across his face. “I’ll make dinner. We can talk, catch up.”

“Are you— Would that be okay?”

“Keith, of course,” Adam says. “I _want_ to see you.”

“I,” Keith starts, unsure of what to say. “Alright?”

“Are you asking me whether _you_ want to go?”

Keith groans. “Really? The whole are you asking or telling schtick? You haven’t changed at all,” Keith huffs, but something in him is lighter, happy. “When?”

Adam hums. “This Saturday? At six?”

“Okay.” It’s not okay. He’s pretty sure Allura wanted the paladins to get together to train, she’s been hounding them for some time now, but he won’t say no to Adam. “Saturday, at six. Wait”—he takes a piece of paper out of his pocket, Adam’s information written on it in Pidge’s chicken scrawl—“can you tell me your address, just so I know I have the right one?”

Adam rattles off his address, and it’s different from what’s written on the piece of paper. Keith asks Adam to repeat it, committing it to memory.

“Got all that down?” Adam asks.

“Affirmative.”

“Affirmative,” Adam repeats. “Spoken like a true soldier.” Adam’s tone is teasing, but it comes out sad, too.

Keith tries not to think too hard about it.

“Alright. I’ll see you then, Keith.”

It sounds like a goodbye, but neither of them hang up.

In the silence, Keith says, “Shiro misses you, you know.”

Quietly, Adam replies, “He does?”

“Yeah.”

Adam doesn’t say anything. Keith wants to prod more, but he worries that maybe it’s a wound too tender to keep prodding at.

They can talk on Saturday.

“Okay.” The line clicks, and Adam is gone.

Keith pockets his phone, mind somehow quiet, but buzzing.

He steps out of the room, only to find Lance sitting on the floor beside the door, playing some game on his phone. Without a word, he plops himself right next to Lance, head tilted back and resting on the wall behind them.

Keith watches as Lance stops his game. “Hey,” Lance says. He turns soft eyes on Keith just as he puts his phone down. “How’d it go?”

Lance runs a soothing hand through his hair, gentle and light, and it takes all of Keith not to just melt into it. “Good,” he says, eyes closing. “Really good, I think.”

*

He tells Shiro, of course. Keeping this a secret from him was always out of the question.

“So, you might want to sit down for this,” Keith starts. They’re in Shiro’s unit, the space as sterile as any other Garrison unit. It’s a far cry from the family unit he shared with Adam, years ago.

“Er,” Shiro says, “alright?” He sits down on the sofa.

Keith thinks back to when he first got Adam’s information from Pidge.

She found him Adam’s date of retirement, a mailing address, and a phone number—all that information in record time, then sent Keith off on his way.

Keith rushed to Shiro soon after, breathless and frantic in a way that alarmed Shiro.

“I know where Adam is,” Keith said. At least, he thought he knew. How different can a mailing address and an actual home address be, anyway?

“You— What?”

“I have his number, and his address, so now you can go find him like I know you want to—”

“Keith, no. I can’t.”

“Why not? You can’t actually believe what Iverson was saying—”

“—what, Keith, you were there?—”

“—and you’re crazy if you do. It’s Adam. Find him.”

“Keith, you don’t understand. Just— We need to leave him alone.”

“Years, Shiro. You and I have been gone for _years_. The least we could do—”

“I said no, Keith,” Shiro said, tone hard.

“But why not?” Keith said, bewildered. “I’ve got his information right here for you, Shiro, you just have to—”

“He doesn’t want us to find him—”

Suddenly, Keith bursted, “Stop saying _us_!”

He was sick of it, how Shiro kept talking as if just because _he_ wouldn’t find Adam meant Keith wouldn’t either. It felt unfair, and maybe Keith was being a child about it, but the part of him that missed Adam all these years, that missed the small family they made refused to believe that Adam would just— just— _not_ want him.

Wouldn’t want either of them.

In his anger, Keith stormed out, the piece of paper containing Adam’s information bunched and crinkled to high heavens in Keith’s clenched fist.

They talked it out, eventually, but Shiro was firm on the matter. He would “respect Adam’s wishes,” he said. Whatever the hell he thought they were.

“Keith?” Shiro calls, bringing Keith back to the present.

“Right, uh,” Keith begins. “So.”

“So.”

Keith starts pacing back and forth, his palms beginning to sweat. “Adam.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees Shiro tense up. “What about him?”

“I called him yesterday.” Keith clears his throat. “We— We talked.”

“Oh,” Shiro says. “He— okay.”

 _Okay? That’s all you can say?_ is what Keith wants to yell, but he doesn’t want to start another fight. Instead, he says, “He sounded like he was doing well.” Keith frowns. They didn’t actually talk much about Adam, when he thinks back on it.

“That’s good,” Shiro says, neutral, careful. Keith hates how careful Shiro is being.

“I think he misses you.”

“Keith.” It sounds like a warning.

“No,” Keith says, more firm, “I _know_ he does.” Adam hadn’t said as much when they spoke, but Keith feels it strongly in his gut, believes in it more than he believes in some other things.

“Keith—”

Keith stops pacing. “No, Shiro, listen to me—”

“Keith, quiet— Just— Give me a second.” Shiro buries his face into his hands, taking slow, deep breaths.

Five in, five out.

When he lifts his head, the expression on his face is devastated. “How can he, Keith? I—” Shiro leans against the back of the chair, eyes shut in something akin to grief. “I left him,” he whispers quietly.

Keith doesn’t know what to say to that, so he keeps quiet. He sits down next to Shiro, the cushion barely sinking down under his weight. It’s nothing like the couch they used to have.

After a few minutes, Keith says, “I’m having dinner with him on Saturday.”

Shiro turns to look at him, looking a little desperate.

“I won’t ask you to come.” _Not yet_ , he thinks. “But I think— At least think about it, Shiro.”

Shiro closes his eyes again, trying to school his features into something less painful. “Okay.”

Keith puts a hand on Shiro’s shoulder, squeezing it. “I’ll bring back cake, if he makes some,” Keith says into the ensuing silence. Shiro loved—loves Adam’s cakes, his chocolate cake especially. He used to say they were the best in the galaxy.

Shiro smiles, and it’s sad, a little shaky, but it fills Keith with the odd feeling that everything will be okay.

*

Adam’s house is a quaint thing, a bungalow in one of the suburbs of the nearest city. It’s far away too, at least a couple hours away from the Garrison on motorbike. Keith doesn’t think too hard about it.

His heart is in his throat as he knocks on the door. Not for the first time since the call, he wonders if he’s ready, if this was a good idea, if Adam really even wants to see him—

The door opens, and there he is. _Adam_.

“Keith,” Adam breathes, and before Keith can respond, he’s being pulled into a tight hug.

His eyes burn with a fierceness he had thought himself incapable of. When he returns the hug, Adam’s arms around him tighten.

“I never thought I’d see you again,” Adam whispers, pulling away. His eyes are wet. “Look at you,” he breathes. “All grown up.”

“Do you have to sound so old?” Keith says, trying to affect a teasing tone. It takes all of him to maintain the steadiness of his voice.

Adam laughs. “Watch yourself.” He steps away, and opens the door wider. “Come in.”

Keith steps in and his eyes sweep across the place. It’s plain, if a little barren, as if Adam never really bothered to make it a _home_. He wonders what that means.

“It’s not much,” Adam says.

“It’s good,” replies Keith. He takes his shoes off at the doorway and walks further into the house. At a loss for what else to say, Keith says, “Roomy?”

Adam only raises a brow, then shakes his head in amusement. “The food will be ready in a bit,” he says, moving towards what Keith assumes is the kitchen. “Make yourself at home.”

Keith ignores him and follows Adam into the kitchen. “Let me help.”

“Okay,” Adam agrees, and when Keith looks, Adam’s eyes are soft. He sets a bowl of butter and a loaf of bread in front of Keith, then hands him a knife. “You work on the garlic bread.”

“Got it.”

Adam turns away from him and gets to work on whatever is in the pot. If Keith closes his eyes, he can imagine that they’re years back in time, Adam over the stove while Keith helps in whatever little way he can, Shiro occasionally popping into the kitchen to steal tastes of whatever Adam is cooking.

 _Soon_ , Keith thinks.

They chat while they work. Keith tries to keep it light and asks about Adam, this time—he finds out Adam teaches science at a nearby school, has since he retired from the Garrison, and that his nextdoor neighbor is an elderly woman who asks him every Saturday to help with her garden. In turn, she lets him pick at her little herb garden for ingredients.

He knows they have a lot to catch up on, more serious stuff. But that can wait for dinner, and the next time he visits, and the next after that.

For a second, Keith wonders if Adam is happy where he is, if there is space for him and Shiro in the life he’s built.

Soon, Adam sets Keith to the task of setting the table, bringing out placemats and plates and all the cutlery they’ll need. Keith complains about it, if only to make Adam laugh. Adam does.

When Adam brings out the food, Keith stops in his tracks.

“Spaghetti with meatballs?”

“Yeah. The garlic bread didn’t clue you in?” When he glances up, he finds Adam’s looking at him. “Your favorite, right?”

It sounds nonchalant, but he can tell Adam’s a little nervous.

“Yeah.”

Adam’s shoulders sag in relief. Keith feels another wellspring of emotion build within him at Adam remembering, and worrying that he might have got it wrong.

Adam sets the dish down, bringing out the basket of garlic bread next and setting it beside the pasta. “Keith,” he says, vaguely reprimanding, “you haven’t even finished setting the table.”

“What?” He looks down, and true enough, he’s only just unrolled the placemats. Everything else sits in piles on the table.

Adam sighs, but he’s smiling. “I have half a mind not to give you any cake for dessert later.”

Again, Keith stills. “You made cake?”

“Sure did.”

Something in Keith’s chest tightens. Releases. He asks, quietly, “Chocolate?”

Adam smiles, and it feels sad. “Of course.”

And Keith knows, despite everything, that they’ll be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> this was my original idea for the prompt before life got in the way, then i decided to write something else, but because my self-control is next to non-existent, here we are
> 
> this is going to be a three-part series! the next installation is adashi <3
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/atIastic/) | [tumblr](https://laurentism.tumblr.com/)


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